


Words of Love

by ATTHS_TWICE



Series: A Year of Prompts [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Anger, Declarations Of Love, Diary/Journal, Episode: s07e12 X-Cops, Episode: s07e15 En Ami, Episode: s08e13 Per Manum, Episode: s09e01-02 Nothing Important Happened Today, F/M, Feelings, Happy, Heartache, Jealousy, Post-Episode: s06e06 How the Ghosts Stole Christmas, Post-Episode: s06e10 Tithonus, Post-Episode: s06e16 Alpha, Post-Episode: s06e19 The Unnatural, Post-Episode: s07e02 The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati, Post-Episode: s07e04 Millenium, Post-Episode: s07e06 The Goldberg Variation, Post-Episode: s07e17 All Things, Post-Episode: s07e22 Requiem (X-Files), Post-Episode: s08e14 This is Not Happening, Post-Episode: s08e15 DeadAlive, Post-Episode: s08e19 Alone, Post-Episode: s08e21 Existence, Reading, Sad, Trains, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28976625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATTHS_TWICE/pseuds/ATTHS_TWICE
Summary: As Mulder leaves Scully and William, intent on keeping them safe, he finds a journal Scully put into his backpack- a journal detailing the ways she had fallen in love with him.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: A Year of Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090493
Comments: 17
Kudos: 53





	Words of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ascherer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascherer/gifts).



> Okay... this is a story I have been working on for quite a while. Alicia suggested and then requested it and I have had it on my list for SO long. Other stories have been written and this one was waiting for its turn. As this year is dedicated to fulfilling prompt ideas, I've been working on this one and wow... I did not imagine it becoming a story of this length, but... 
> 
> I usually like to write my stories in journals before I put them into documents. Something about putting pen to paper connects me to the story in a more personal way. This may be the longest one shot story I have ever written in those journals, yes journals plural, and I have loved every second of it. 
> 
> Alicia... I hope this is what you had in mind. ❤️
> 
> Thank you to Lisa, for always being my excited reader who is always undaunted when I tell her the word count. 😳❤️

_June 2001_

Mulder threw his duffel bag onto the seat and sighed deeply as he sat down, setting the black backpack beside it. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the seat, determined to not look out the window, not wanting to watch as the train left, pulling him away from home. 

From Scully. And William.

The train lurched and he opened his eyes. They moved of their own accord, looking out the window. She was not there, both of them knowing it would have been too risky if she had seen him off at the station.

The train pulled slowly down the tracks and he closed his eyes again, feeling near tears as he took a shaky breath. Shaking his head, he took more calming breaths, grateful the car he was in was practically empty, with only one other passenger at the far opposite end of it, headphones in her ears and eyes closed. 

“Excuse me, sir?” He heard and he opened his eyes. A ticket agent stood to his right, smiling down at him. “Could I see your ticket, please?”

“Oh,” Mulder said, clearing his throat as he reached for his backpack, and unzipped the main compartment to take out his ticket. 

Pushing aside the sweatshirt he had packed, along with the large bag of snacks Scully had fussed over, putting it and two bottles of water into his backpack, her expression serious, he grabbed his ticket. As he did, his eyes landed on something that made him stop short and his heart drop. He handed the ticket to the agent as though in slow motion, his eyes only on the item in the backpack. 

“Thank you, sir,” the agent said, handing it back to him. “Your sleeper car is downstairs, sir. Only two cars back.”

“Ye… yeah, okay. Th… thank you,” Mulder forced himself to say as the agent walked away and he took a deep breath. “Oh, Scully.” 

His ticket was placed back into his bag and he took out the book he had seen only once before. Holding it in his hands, he let out a bitter laugh, his hand stroking reverently across the face of it.

He knew what was in that book. Knew the words that had been written upon the pages years ago. He let out a breath as he opened the cover, ready to turn to the first page, when his name, in Scully’s handwriting, caught his eye. He swallowed hard as he opened the envelope that had been stuck to the page, took out the folded piece of paper from inside, and read what she had written to him.

_Mulder-_

_I have gone over and over in my head what to write to you, what words I could pen that would carry the most weight. I’ve sat up as you slept on the couch with William on your chest, the most achingly beautiful sight I have ever seen, and thought of what I could say that would truly express my feelings._

_I wanted to leave you with something… something to hold onto and look at as you were out in the world, whereabouts unknown._

He stopped reading, wiping at the sudden tears on his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Shaking his head, he licked his lips and looked back at her letter.

_A single sheet of paper did not seem like enough. What if it was lost or ruined in some way? Whatever I sent along had to be light and easy to carry, something you could carry on your person if necessary, and then I knew what I wanted you to have, to see and more importantly, to know._

_This journal… while it may seem similar to you, it is not the one you’re thinking of, but it_ _is_ _the one that means the most to me, as it is the story of me falling in love with you. Completely and wholly._

_I love you, Mulder. I hope these words will sustain you until you are home once more._

_Home. With your family._

_All my love,_

_Dana_

Shaking his head, he traced over her name, his heart aching, even as it raced. He knew he could probably count on both hands the amount of times he had called her by her first name. Every time he had, it had held weight; his need to express the importance of what he was telling her and for her to truly listen. For her to use it now, it felt like a bolt of lightning through his veins, causing him to sit up and pay attention, knowing that what she had given him was very important to her. 

He knew how well she guarded her feelings, her words always chosen carefully and deliberately. Her love, all her love, and those four letters of her first name… they meant everything to him. 

He stared at the letter for a bit longer, and then put it back into the envelope, as he let out a breath. Turning the first page, he saw the date and smiled as he shifted a little in his seat, as he prepared to read the words she had written.

_December 25th 1998_

_Complete honesty, I’m a little drunk as I write this, but my head has been spinning since we left the house on Larkspur Lane. I_ _ know _ _they weren’t ghosts that we saw, but Mulder… what else could it have been? I don’t_ _ want _ _to believe that, as it goes against everything I believe in, religiously, practically, or physically. I_ _ touched _ _them, Mulder. I_ _ held _ _Maurice’s hat in my hand. How… how could they be ghosts if I could do that?_

_I need to go lay down. I need to sleep._

He laughed softly, thinking of that night in the house with Maurice and Lyda, the confusion, the smell and feel of his own blood and then the sound of Scully‘s laughter as she opened the gift she had given to her. He looked back down and moved onto the next entry.

_January 1999_

_This bullet wound hurts, Mulder. I know it’s healing and quicker than the doctors thought but… it’s like I can feel it in there still._

_I was so scared when it first happened, the feeling of it ripping through my flesh, muscle, and tissue. I seriously thought I would die there, with the bitter taste of blood filling my mouth._

_And then… I know we’ve discussed it, and I know that no one lives forever. But… Fellig… I can’t explain how and who he was, not without facing a future I don’t want to think about._

_I felt for him, saw the sadness, even as I wasn’t sure of his intent and exactly how he tied into the case. I saw something in him._

_He told me something, aside from all the other cryptic and snarky things, he told me his reasoning for why he did what he did, wanting to somehow capture death._

_I told him people wanted to live forever and he said people were idiots, which… I suppose he was right. But, it wasn’t that. He said living a normal life for 75 years, plus or minus, was enough and then I asked him about love- wasn’t that something for which a person should want to live forever?_

_He scoffed, seemed disinterested. He said he had gone to the public records archives forty years ago to look for his wife’s name as he had forgotten it and it bothered him. I heard it then, the tiredness in him, and I had a thought about forgetting my family, the friends I don’t see nearly enough… and you, Mulder. I…_

_After I was shot, after the surgery more like, I lay there thinking about the thought of being immortal. Living my life, possibly many lives without you._

_I don’t want that life, Mulder._

He released a breath he had not known he was holding and he shook his head as he looked out the window, the afternoon sun shining brightly. No… he did not want to leave her in this life, knowing she would live on without him, remaining young as he grew older, reminiscent of his dream life where nothing quite added up. 

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his things and went down the stairs, wanting to read more of the journal in private, wishing he could get off the train and go back home. Back to her apartment, the place he always felt comfortable and at ease. The place where his son now slept, or made noises that fascinated him and kept him waiting for more, his eyes unable to look away from his tiny face. 

And where Scully‘s smile could light up a room.

Walking down the hall and through to the other car, he ran into the ticket attendant who showed him to his room, and he nodded his thanks as the man walked away. 

Closing the door, he set his backpack and duffel bag down on the seat. He took off his jacket and sat down, his hands rubbing across his face as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. With another deep sigh, he stood up and picked up his backpack and shut the blinds on the window.

He took off his shoes and sat down on the seat again. Opening the backpack, he took out a bottle of water and the journal. He turned on the light above the seat and leaned back, re-reading the last words he had seen. 

As he turned the page, he saw that there were pages missing and he frowned, his thumb running across them with curiosity. Looking at the words on the next page, he sighed. 

_March 1999_

_We’ve just gotten back from another case out in California. In fact, I just got home after dropping off the gift I know was sent to you from Karin Berquist…_

_If I ever show this to you, or should something happen to me and you are now leading us, I know you will notice the missing pages and you will wonder about them. I debated leaving them in, leaving them there for myself, but I had to get rid of them, had to purge them and not continue to dwell on the past and the unknown._

_It will probably be of no surprise to you that within those pages, it held my own insecurities, anger, and yes, jealousy, regarding Diana._

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He knew he had completely messed up that time in their lives. Diana was his past and when she had come back unexpectedly, it was unnerving and curious, and yet it was also uncomfortable. He should have been more forthcoming, explained things better, but he had not been, and for a while it had become a pebble in their path.

Or more like a fucking boulder.

Opening his eyes, he looked back at Scully’s words, concentrating on the swirls and loops of her letters, before focusing on the actual words. Letting out a breath, he nodded and began to read. 

_For a while, Mulder… I considered leaving. You know that, we’ve discussed it. After we were separated, after Dallas, I_ _ wanted _ _to leave, but not because of the work, because I didn’t want to do it without_ _you_ _. And Jesus… that terrified me more than anything; my dependence on you, my need to be around you._

 _Seeing you assigned a new partner, male or female, I wouldn’t have been able to handle that, so I wanted to leave before it happened. But leaving you_ _completely_ _, no I couldn’t do that. What would have happened if I had? Would… would we have pursued this thing between us? The one we deny and push away, yet it remains and we ignore it,_ _ have _ _ignored it for years? Would we have stopped?_

_We almost did and then…_

_So many things got in the way, so many times I wanted to walk away. But more often I wanted to come to you, tell you how I feel, and had felt in those times. I wanted to show you the pages that have since been taken from this book. I… I was angry when I wrote them, hurt and angry. I hated feeling that way. The jealousy I felt, knowing she knew you in a way I had not, but it was more the trust you put in her implicitly. No matter what I said, no matter what evidence I showed you, you refused to see, refused to hear me._

_I felt I no longer mattered to you. I was an afterthought. You had the believer you wished I was, why would you need me? Why should I stick around when I was the one stopping you from finding what you needed to know?_

He put the journal down and covered his face, tears in his eyes. Seeing that she had felt he would not want her around and yet she had stayed, broke his heart.

Needing a few moments, he stood up and slipped on his shoes and walked over to the small sink in the room. Rinsing his face, he dried it as he looked in the mirror and shook his head. He knew that Diana was a sore point between them and it was _not_ because of the past as she had said, but because he had put his trust in her. Had done so with no explanation as to why, only accusing Scully that she had been making things personal when she had tried to dig into Diana’s past and show him what he had refused to listen to and to see with his own eyes.

“Such an absolute idiot,” he said quietly, hating himself for the pain that it had caused her. He was thankful she had torn out the pages, sure he would not have been able to handle reading them. Not now.

Throwing out the paper towels, he pitched forward as the train began to slow down. Making sure his door was locked, he sat back down on the seat and took off his shoes. Moving the backpack and the duffel to the end of the seats, he picked up the journal and lay down across the seats, flipping back to where he had left off.

_Jesus… I’ve gotten off topic again, or have I? Full disclosure, I’m drinking wine, feeling the need to unwind, so I may have babbled more than usual._

He laughed as he thought of her angrily writing in a journal as she drank wine. Such a Scully thing to do.

_I told you that women are tricksters too and this time I was right. Karen had tricked you to come out, been too scared to be honest with you and used a mutual interest to lure you to her. Hiding behind her computer and keyboard, she laid out a breadcrumb trail to entice you to her house in the woods. Yet when the moment came, her fear, worry, or… whatever, held her back and stopped her._

_Christ, that is a feeling I know far too well. I_ _ knew _ _that nothing was going to happen, but Jesus, Mulder, watching her subtle brazen ways made, for lack of a better phrase, my hackles rise up. I didn’t want you to get hurt and she didn’t seem to care if that was the outcome. I couldn’t stand by and watch that happen without saying something._

_Not again, Mulder._

Not aware the train had stopped, the lurching of it starting again took him by surprise. Picking up the water bottle with a sigh, he opened it and took a drink, closing it and turning back to the journal. 

_April 1999_

_When I was 16, a sophomore in high school, I had a crush on James Reynolds, a senior. He was a baseball player and quite the jock. Tall, dark hair, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Ohhh… he was the reason I got up in the morning. Well, that and making sure I had a perfect attendance record._

He laughed and shook his head, thinking about a 16-year-old Dana Scully wanting perfect attendance, but also secretly desiring to be at school to see the boy she liked.

_I would watch him at practice, bringing a book so as not to seem too weird. He paid me no attention, but I loved watching him._

_One of the days, while I_ _did_ _enjoy watching him, I also enjoyed the book I was reading. I didn’t notice the day had gotten darker and everyone had left. The lights had come on on the field and I was so embarrassed to be one of the last people there. But as I was putting my book into my backpack, he called my name. I was shocked. I had no idea he even knew my name. I went over to him and he asked if I wanted to hit a few balls._

_Well…_

_He “showed” me how to at first and I let him. Me, the sister of two brothers. Two competitive brothers and me, an equally competitive, rather tomboyish girl. As though I had never hit a baseball with a bat. As if I had never played in neighborhood games or in our backyards. As if I was unable to figure it out without his guiding hand explaining the stance and how I should swing. As if I couldn’t have done it on my own…_

_It’s funny, and also infuriating at times, how men seem to think women can’t do things without them showing us first._

He felt flushed as he turned the page, thinking of _their_ night playing baseball. How he had not only “shown“ her but had also not walked away, keeping his arms around her, feeling her body against his, and breathing in her scent.

_However, when a man refuses to give up the bat and instead shares it with you, using the lesson as an excuse to be close to you… well then, you pretend to not know how to hit a ball._

_Especially when that man is the only one you would ever allow to do something of that nature._

_And the one who makes your stomach do incredibly annoying flip flops._

_And who smells so goddamn good._

_God, Mulder…_

He looked up, remembering that night, the way she had looked at him in the parking lot, her eyes shining and her smile wide. A second too long he had hesitated, as a car of hollering teenagers caused them to look over at them, and the moment had passed them by.

“Thanks for the “gift,” Mulder,” she had said, her keys in her hand. “That was fun.” She had smiled and walked to her car, looking over the top of it, her expression unreadable.

He had sighed as she had driven away, kicking at the ground as he walked to his car and put the bat back in the trunk, closing it with a loud bang. 

So close and yet so far. 

_May 1999_

_A lot of what I would want to write here is in a different journal, one I no longer have as I left Africa with only what was on my person. Honestly… I was so sure I would lose you as I was thousands of miles away. That my work wouldn’t matter, but I_ _ had _ _to keep trying. I know that’s what you would do and have done in the past._

_Days I was gone and I had no idea if my work was for naught, but knowing I had to continue, to save you. If I was too late, then I would save others with my knowledge._

_The flight home was excruciating. Yes, I was fine and technically moving, but I felt as though I was standing still; trapped in the steel tube and could do nothing but wait._

_I hated it._

_Then… seeing the level of decline you had suffered, my heart ached and all I wanted to do was take you away from there. Help you as I could…_

_Mulder, when you had disappeared, I was angry more than anything. Angry that somewhere someone was hurting you and I couldn’t get to you. I knew Diana had a hand in it. She didn’t appear back in your life by accident. Not with what she had been focusing her career on and the way she pushed her way back into the X-Files._

_We can disagree about it, feel we are both right while knowing the other is wrong, but I know that despite it all, at the end of it all, she did help me get to you. Without her help… I don’t even want to think of the outcome._

_For that, for her change of heart, behaving with human emotions and caring, she was killed. I never wanted that. As much as I never trusted her, no one deserves to die because they took a risk to help others._

_Especially someone they cared about._

_I know she loved you in her own way. The past love she may have kept alive, living off the memories of the relationship you had, I believe she glorified it, built it up into something it no longer was._

_You, Mulder… being who you are, however you say you “trust no one,” you put your faith and trust so easily into others at times. I know you knew her, she was there when you found the X-Files, but… she was not who you knew anymore, and yet…_

_I’ll stop before I need to rip out these pages too._

_Regardless of anything else, I will forever be indebted to her for helping me find you._

_For saving my touchstone._

Closing the journal, he set it aside and took a deep breath. Putting on his shoes, he placed the journal into the backpack, and slid it onto his back. Leaving the duffel bag behind, he walked out of the room, closing the door. He needed to _move_ , to work out the words he had just read and the emotions they had created. He could not sit still with those feelings. He had to move around.

He walked through numerous cars and down many long hallways until he reached the very last car and was forced to turn around and head back. His mind was racing, thinking of the days when he had been recovering, the world confusing and uncertain. 

He’d had many bad dreams, waking up in a cold sweat, not sure what was real and untrue. Until he had felt Scully taking his hand, murmuring words of comfort as he would lie back and close his eyes, her hand soft and soothing as she had touched his face, his worries calming. 

Pausing in his walking, he took a deep breath and dropped his head back, placing a hand on the wall ahead of him as the train pitched suddenly.

If he had been more bold and brave, he would have stopped her from walking down the hall the day she had come to tell him about Diana’s death. He should have made her come back and told her that he loved her, _said_ the words to her and not just heavily implied them. 

In that dream life, the one that went by too quickly, it was not until he had heard that she was dead, that he had felt so alone and broken. The one person he had needed and wanted most, had not been a part of his life until he lay dying. 

His constant. 

The one who had been honest, no matter how much the truth had hurt. She had still been _his_ Scully regardless of how he had asked her to listen and believe what he was telling her. She had woken him up, both there in that dream room of death, and the one in which he had been left to suffer and possibly to die alone. 

His touchstone, bridging the gap between the real and imagined, the one he could count on to be beside him even after all the bullshit he had put her through. Despite the doubts he may have planted within her, as he had placed his trust in others which she did not understand and he had not explained, she had been there to help him. 

His one constant in this world. 

Opening his eyes, he started walking again, deciding to find the dining car, needing a drink. The honesty and pain of the past was almost too much to take without something to cut it.

Upon entering the dining car, he ordered a beer and took the cold glass to a table in the corner, looking out the window as he sat down. The sun was setting, the train heading west where, once morning came, he would leave this train and board another one heading south. From there… he was not sure. But for right now, he would enjoy the comforts afforded to him in the relatively empty dining car.

Opening the backpack, he took out the journal and set it on the table. Taking a drink of his beer, he opened it, turning the pages until he found where he had left off. Using the extra napkin he had been given, he folded it and used it as a bookmark. 

_December 1999_

_You know… when I flew out to Chicago, I was a little perturbed with you. The clues to the address were a bit eye rolling, and_ _so_ _like you. A case with a man who was supposedly invincible… so very like you._

_The entire time we were there felt like some perverse slapstick; so many ups and downs and yet it all worked out. So like you to find a case like that. A puzzle within a puzzle wrapped inside of another puzzle… like one of those little contraptions that Henry had built._

_But… after we came home, the dinner we shared… God, how did I not kiss you? How did I not drag you home and rip your clothes off? Christ, I should have. I should have done that_ _years_ _ago._

He smiled as he remembered that dinner: the shine in her eyes, his hand on her back, his fingers lingering longer than they usually did and for _far_ longer than they should have. He had wanted to kiss her so badly, but instead he had hailed her a cab, though everything in him said it was wrong. Her eyes watching his, her hand gently touching his chest as they said goodnight, made him want to rethink every decision he had ever made. As she was driven away, her smile had made him catch his breath, and caused his heart to pound in his chest. 

Two weeks after that, he had kissed her in a hospital waiting room, amid the sounds of cheering and Auld Lang Syne playing in his ears. The smile on her face as he had pulled back from their kiss, was the same one she had given him as her cab pulled away, and it had caused him to smile, happy that he had finally been brave enough to do something he had wanted to do for years. Of course he had made a quippy joke, when all he had wanted to do was kiss her again. He could have kicked himself for being so stupid. 

But then, she had smiled at him as they had stepped into the elevator and touched his chest, her eyes bright and happy. Mindful of his injury, she had leaned in, kissing him again, softly humming against his lips and causing him to moan in reply. 

Shaking his head, he sighed and looked down at the journal again.

_December 31, 1999_

_Why does it seem that anytime there is a possibility of a step forward, one of us, or both of us, suffers an injury and it puts things on hold? How many times, Mulder? Jesus…_

_You kissed me tonight. Not exactly the first time, but also it_ _was_ _the first time. It wasn’t one on the forehead or cheek, given after an injury or illness. If it had been a few years ago, I would’ve chalked it up to the holiday, maybe too much to drink, or the moment simply getting away from us._

_But… I know better. I know… I know myself and I know what I want._

_But… I’m also scared. Scared of what will happen if we move forward and we fall apart. If this tension, this pull to you, is not enough. Or, if it’s_ _too_ _much. Sometimes it feels like it is and I will… I_ _have_ _lost myself along the way and without you…_

_But then, Christ all I want is you. In any capacity._

_But I also want more…_ _so_ _much more._

_January 2000_

_2000…_

_When I was younger, the thought of a new millennium seemed so foreign, almost like science fiction._

_However, for the past seven years, I’ve dealt with science fiction on a daily basis. The millennium is small potatoes compared to aliens, Mothman, werewolves or even a wasp man…_

_A_ _wasp_ _man, Mulder._

 _We talked about this over breakfast, on the plane ride home, and in the car, but I’m still baffled by the suggestion of fear actually_ _killing_ _a person. I… I saw it. I saw the coroner’s assistant die in front of me and yet I… I can’t explain it, Mulder. I just can’t. I know what you would, and have said, but I still don’t know what_ _I_ _think._

 _What I do know, even as I am aware of just how much I would have rolled my eyes at myself if I knew I would write this at some point in my life, is that I enjoyed being out there with you. You may have gotten on my nerves with your all in beliefs and as you mugged for the camera._ **_(*this is a reminder to get a copy of that before it airs. I’ll use my badge if I have to.)_ ** _But, I enjoyed myself because I was with you._

_You make me happy, Mulder. Sharing breakfast, hearing you laugh, your smile, holding your hand in the car…_

_ You _ _make me happy, Mulder._

He closed his eyes as he saw the beginnings of the next entry, knowing what was coming and how it had broken them a bit, brought them back to “before.” 

Before they held hands in the car, kissed goodbye, had movie nights where neither of them paid much attention, simply happy being together as they moved forward.

“Sir?” He opened his eyes and looked up, finding the dining car attendant beside him. "Would you like anything else? Another beer?”

“Yeah, I’ll take another, thanks.” The man nodded as he walked away. Mulder sighed as he looked down and shook his head, deciding to wait for the beer before continuing.

He looked out the window, not noticing anything in particular, his mind far away to the day in his apartment when he had been angrier at Scully then he had ever thought possible. After everything they have been through, for her to have trusted that black lunged son of a bitch… she had gone away with him. 

Had believed him. 

That bastard had held her life in his hands so many times and yet she had gone with him willingly, without a word to let him know what was happening. He had been worried and when she was back, he had been livid. 

Her life had been in danger and the thought of losing her was unfathomable. When she had returned, as she had sat on his couch, safe and whole, all he had wanted to do was push her away before he exploded.

“Here you go, sir,” the attendant said, setting down a new glass and taking the other before walking away.

“Thank you,” Mulder said softly to the man’s retreating back, sighing as he watched the bubbles clinging to the inside of the glass. He knew he was avoiding her words, but also knew he needed to read them, knowing how it had ended… how he had behaved.

A part of him wished she had ripped out the coming pages, saved him the heartache, but he knew he needed to read her words, wanted to hear her private thoughts after the fact. Taking a big drink of his beer, his fingers wet and cold, he let out a breath and set down the glass. 

_March 2000_

_Never. Never have I been as angry with you as I am right now. And you have done some stupid shit, Mulder. Some_ _really_ _stupid shit._

_Mulder… I’m..._

There was a paragraph scratched out, dark lines from a thick black marker obscuring her words.

 _The fact that you made me feel like shit because of my choice, what a fucking joke._ _ You… _ _you jump onto trains, leave me behind, follow your gut or whatever you want to call it. Puerto Rico… a goddamn submarine. You can do all of that but me, oh, Christ no._

_“He’s dangerous, Scully. He could’ve hurt you.”_

_Do you think I don’t fucking know what could have happened? Do you think I didn’t think about it from all angles? That I went off half cocked? Jesus Christ, Mulder, I can’t fucking believe you. I can’t that believe_ _this_ _, this is what’s put a stop to…_

_I’ve taken a walk. I had to get out of the apartment for a bit. I feel a bit calmer, but I still don’t want to speak to you right now. I think the sound of your voice would send me over the edge, pushing us further away from one another…_

_I_ _know_ _you understand why I did it and_ _I know _ _why you’re angry. I’ve been on the other side and it hurts. But, I took precautions, I had a plan. I had a way to let you know what was happening. If I had spoken to you before I left, you would have discouraged me, stopped me from doing what I believed was the right thing to do._

 _I know he’s a liar, a slippery snake, but there has to be some truth to the things he says. I saw things, and not just things he_ _wanted_ _me to see._

 _I will not let_ _you_ _, the one who I have waited for, searched for and fought for while I am left behind to face the consequences of your actions, tell me that my actions were selfish or careless. You do not get to lecture_ _me_ _on taking risks._

_I will not let you._

His head dropped back as he closed his eyes. Letting out a heavy breath, he licked his lips and turned his head to look out the window.

She had been so angry, so hurt. He had been completely unprepared for it, for the way it changed them and their new relationship. They had been distant, not touching, no longer spending time together outside of work.

Until he had stopped her as she was leaving, unable to say what he was thinking, but staring at her, his hand on her upper arm. He had tried to get the words out, but he could not.

She had sighed and nodded, looking down and then back up at him, her eyes searching his as he nodded back. 

“Dinner?” she had suggested quietly and he had exhaled with relief as he nodded again, grabbing his coat and following her out of the office. 

Dropping her off after they had eaten, a dinner that had been only slightly awkward, she had grasped his hand and smiled softly before opening the door and stepping out. Not able to fight it any longer, he had jumped out of the car, surprising her as he grabbed her, kissing her passionately as they hit the wall. He had lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed into her, moaning into her mouth.

It had been unlike any kiss they had exchanged, and as it became more, he was hit with the door by her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Fienne, who had walked out, surprising them both. Scully had been embarrassed and hurried out of his embrace, fixing her hair as she stepped back, Mrs. Fienne apologizing profusely. 

But the moment had passed, Scully’s eyes not meeting his as she had mumbled goodnight and walked into her lobby. Mrs. Fienne had continued to speak to him, apologizing again, taking his offered arm as they walked to her car. His mind had been on Scully, the feel of her legs around him, though had smiled and helped Mrs. Fienne into her car. 

He had cursed himself the entire drive home. Finally taking a step forward, it had gone tits up... again. Why could things _never_ be easy between them? 

Collapsing onto the couch once he had arrived home, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Sitting up, he took off his coat and noticed the answering machine light was flashing. Pressing it with a groan, he had hoped they were not about to be called out on a case, not sure if they should be around one another at the moment. 

But then, Scully’s voice had filled the room and he grinned. 

“I wouldn’t object to a repeat of that… minus Mrs. Fienne, of course. Goodnight.” 

He had debated calling her back to tell her goodnight, but decided against it, leaving it as it was for the moment. It had taken a while to get back to where they were and he had not wanted to jinx anything.

Sighing, he took another drink of his beer and thought about what made her decide to put this journal into his bag. He could picture her smile, even as her eyes were sad. So sad the past couple of days. He wondered when she had made the decision and when she had done it.

William was up a lot- feeding, with gas, or needing to be changed. She had been unwilling to leave him alone, fussing over him, watching him as he had finally slept. She was wonderful with him, sure of everything she did, encouraging Mulder to be a part of all of it.

“Fuck,” he breathed, shaking his head as the train slowed down and stopped at another station. He watched people getting off and on the train and he found that his usual interest in their lives was not present. He did not care about them, only wondering how Scully was doing, if she was alone or if her mother had come over, as he had quietly asked her to do the day before. 

“Oh, I am starved! Excuse me, do you have food or just snacks?” 

He turned to see a group of backpacking twenty-somethings entering the dining car and he turned back around, gathering up his things, not wanting to sit in a room with happy and excited travelers.

Leaving his half full glass at the bar, he nodded at the attendant and slipped his backpack on as he walked back to his room.

Entering the room, he arranged the seats into the bed it would be for the night. He took out sweats and a long sleeve shirt from his duffel bag and closed the curtains. His toiletry bag was taken out next and inside he found a brand new toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, and different items he would need. 

Smiling, he shook his head, knowing it had been a joint effort on Scully and Mrs. Scully’s part, his bag not filled like that when _he_ had packed it. 

“Scully,” he whispered, taking out what he needed for the night and putting the rest in the small shower for the morning.

He used the toilet, brushed his teeth, and washed his face, turning off the lights, leaving only one on above the bed. Changing his clothes, he hung the ones he had been wearing in the slim closet, planning on wearing them again the next day. 

Making sure the door was locked, he put his shoes beside the bed and took off his socks, laying them on top of his shoes. He put the duffel bag on the floor and kept the backpack beside him, everything he needed close to him ready to grab if he had to make a run for it. 

He took out the bottle of water he had opened earlier and the journal, closed the backpack and adjusted the pillows. Finding his place in the book, he began to read again.

_April 2000_

_Why? Why did we wait so long?_

_I…_

_This path we’ve been on, seven years together, the push and pull… it’s who we are. But oh… if I had known…_

_I didn’t speak to God in a Buddhist temple, nor was my whole life changed. Not then anyway, but years ago when I walked into your office. And even years before that when my path took me from medicine, and the life I thought I was supposed to be living, the one that had been set before me._

_I cared for Daniel. I… I loved him. I shouldn’t have. He was not mine to love. Not freely._

_I… I had made a mistake and the FBI recruiting me was what I needed most- a fresh start._

_And then I met Jack and… it wasn’t the same, but somewhat similar. I begin to see a pattern within myself as I fell for, lack of a better word, my superior. I couldn’t do that again._

_And then… you._

_God, Mulder. I fell for you so hard. So very hard. I fought it, but, Jesus… have you seen you? How was I supposed to stop myself?_

_I thought if I, if_ _we_ _, crossed that line, it would be the end of us. But… holy Christ, was I wrong._

_So very fucking wrong._

He smiled, thinking of that night. Closing his eyes, as he remembered the sound of her waking up before he had gotten more than a couple of steps away.

“Sorry,” she had said, sitting up and stretching, the blanket he had placed on her falling down. “I fell asleep while you were talking.”

“As though it was the first time,” he had teased and she had smiled softly.

“I should get going.”

“You can stay. It’s late…” He had shrugged and she sighed as she looked up at him.

“No, I should…” She started to reach for her shoes and he sat on the coffee table, picking them up before she could. He lifted her foot and slid on one of her shoes.

“You don’t have to do that,” she had whispered, trying to take her other shoe from him.

“Stop. I don’t mind.” He had smiled, reaching for her other foot, rubbing his hand down her calf. She pulled it back and he looked up at her in surprise.

“It tickled,” she had whispered and he laughed softly, taking her foot back, holding onto her calf, his hands rubbing gently as he watched her face.

“Mulder,” she had breathed and then they were leaning toward one another, her foot moving as she touched his face, her fingers warm.

They had kissed softly, tentatively, before her hands slid into his hair and to the back of his neck. The kiss became more passionate and he held her as he stood up, pulling her with him.

She had stared at him as she pulled back, her eyes searching his, millions of questions asked and answered with a single nod. He had kissed her again, lifting her as she moaned and held onto him tightly.

He had set her down by his bed, kissing her before pulling back and staring at her as he trailed his hands down her body and knelt in front of her, searching for the zipper on her skirt.

“It’s on the side,” she had whispered, reaching to do it herself, but he beat her to it, his fingers finding the cool metal and pulling it down, but the skirt did not open.

“There’s a hook. I can get it,” she had said, trying to do it, but once more he stopped her, finding a small hook and undoing it. He tugged and it slipped over her ass and down to the floor, pooling at her feet. 

He had helped her out of it, taking off the one shoe she wore and tossed both to the side. Her pantyhose had been next and when they were gone, he ran both of his hands up her calves, thighs, and to her waist, feeling her breathing heavily. 

She had taken off her jacket and it fell to the floor as he lifted her sweater, kissing her stomach, his tongue running around her navel, her hands in his hair and his name exhaled from her lips.

The train shifted, his thoughts interrupted as he opened his eyes, the room he was in a starkly depressing contrast to his apartment bedroom and what had happened that night. He looked back at her words and while she did not go into any detail, he knew what she was _not_ saying. 

How it had felt to finally love her completely. To hear her cries of pleasure, her nails scratching at his back as she whimpered his name. The taste of her kiss, her skin, her arousal. The feel of her all around him, under him, her legs wrapped around his waist. The sound of her breathing as she lay in his arms, kissing his chest as she molded her body into his, his name once more falling from her lips as she fell asleep, his fingers running through her hair.

“God,” he whispered, letting out a deep breath. “We were so wrong. Wrong to wait so long. So many times…” 

He shook his head, closed the journal, and turned off the light, suddenly exhausted, though there were still more to read and it was rather early. Placing the journal beside him, he covered up and within minutes he was asleep, his dreams unsettling; the past intermingling with the uncertainty of the future.

His alarm on his watch woke him, startling him. He did not know where he was, but as he heard a distant train whistle, he remembered. Groaning, he pressed the light button on the side of his watch and found it was 1:30.

 _Right_ , he thought, with a sigh, the only time he’d had to wake Scully for a feeding. 

She had been exhausted at the hospital as she recovered from the birth. One night, he had woken to a very upset William and a crying Scully, apologizing to him as she picked him up and opened her pajama top to feed him. After that night, witnessing her tears and frustration, Mulder had set an alarm, waking her before William could become too upset. 

It had only been a few days that he had done it, waking Scully as she slept beside him. Waking to it now, alone and on a train that was taking him far away from them, he felt tears sting his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and closed his eyes. 

There was one bright spot in the sad darkness and it made him sigh. Before he had left, he made sure to set her alarm clock, an annoying beeping sound now taking his place. Knowing they were possibly both waking at the same time made him feel close to her, even though he was now many miles away.

Deciding to get up, though there were still a few hours before his stop, he sat up and turned on the light, squinting in the brightness. Yawning, he moved his socks aside and slid his feet into his shoes without them. 

He used the bathroom and brushed his teeth, staring at himself in the mirror as he shook his head. Sitting back down on the bed, he took off his shoes and took out the bag of snacks Scully had packed along with the other bottle of water. He chose a granola bar and with a smile, two pieces of her favorite chocolate that she had included. Closing the bag, he put it back in the backpack.

Eating slowly, he opened one of the curtains and looked out at the dark night. He had no idea where they were, no lights could be seen as they bumped and traveled down the tracks. He took a drink and closed the bottle, wiping his hands on his pants. Picking up the journal, he opened it to the napkin marked page, finding no date marking the entry.

_It’s been months since I’ve wanted or felt any need to write in here. Months of worry, sadness, and confusion. Worry for you, Mulder, wondering where you are… if you are. I don’t know if we’ll ever find you and I need you here, now more than ever._

_I’m pregnant._

_I’m alone and I’m terrified._

_This was not the plan. The IVF failed, my chances were gone. How has this child come to be? I don’t know who to trust when it comes to this… I don’t…_

_Mulder, I dreamt of you last night. You were calling to me, far away and I could hear you as you got closer. You smiled and I reached for you, but you disappeared. I woke up sobbing in my sleep._

_I miss you so much._

_December 2000_

_A year. A year ago we were chasing zombies and kissing in the hospital waiting room. How can it only be a year? If I had known all that would have transpired in a year's time, I would have never let you out of my sight, kept you close, and never let you go back to Oregon. If I had known that would be the last time I saw you… alive…_

_Mulder, how can you be gone?_

Her words were smeared and he knew it was from her tears, as he wiped away his own. He remembered the months of her disappearance and how he had felt like a zombie while she was gone, his thoughts constantly on her whereabouts. 

If she had come back dead… He shook his head and wiped his face again. If she had died, he knew it would have sealed his own feet. Her death would have brought about his own, no question. He sighed and looked down, intent on reading this painful part of her life.

_January 2001_

_The baby is moving so much these days. He’s awake more at night, reminding me of you every time I feel a kick or him swirling around inside of me. He’s very active. Definitely your son._

_My mother was here the other day, bringing me groceries and some food she had made. She commented on the bag of sunflower seeds I had asked for, although I already had a couple of bags in the cupboard. I just smiled and shrugged, not wanting to explain to her that having them there makes me feel you are going to be walking through the door at any moment, rifling through the cupboard, and ripping open a bag with your teeth._

_Jesus, Mulder…_

_February 2001_

_Check up today, everything is fine. But is it? I always fear it’s not, skeptical of every nurse and doctor, always watching them for anything out of the ordinary._

_I dream of you almost every night. Rooms with doors that I cannot open. I can hear you calling for me, your voice full of pain, but I am never able to reach you in time. I hate sleeping, knowing those dreams are waiting for me._

_I miss you so much. Miss your smile, your laughter, your touch…_

_Someone brushed against me and then touched my back in apology and I froze in place, unable to move. You were the only one I allowed to do that, only you, Mulder._

_Your hand on my back was never a sexist thing as it would have been with anyone else. I learned very quickly that you are a tactile man. You enjoy that connection you receive through touch. Anyone else, I would have questioned their motives, but with you, it’s just who you are._

_Were_ _. Who you were…_

_God…_

He sighed as he looked out the window again. That time he was gone, still confused him, his memories not altogether there and the ones he had, he did not want to pursue. Too many times he had woken up in a cold sweat, fighting with an absent foe. He did not want to know what had happened to him. 

When she was gone, he had suffered, wondering where she was, but not the way she had. Not while pregnant with a child, whose creation she questioned, even as she had hoped it was theirs. She’d had to face the “what if’s” on her own. 

He covered his face with his hands, his emotions taking over, missing her so much and hating that he would be away from his son.

For that was who he was, his son, and he would not believe anything aside from the fact that they had created a miracle in their child. A miracle child he may never know, as he was forced to leave them in order to keep them safe. 

How cruel life continued to be to them. 

Wiping his eyes, he looked back at the journal as he cleared his throat and let out a deep breath.

_February 2000_

_We went to your apartment today, me and the guys. We had been there a few times since you’ve been gone, Frohike going by to feed the fish most often._

_They helped me clean, well what they would allow of me anyway. The place wasn’t really dirty, just… empty and still, so opposite of how it usually feels. They left and I stayed, needing to be there alone for a little while._

_There have been times in the past when I have been there on my own, waiting for you to return, but today… today it was harder. The hardest it’s been all this time in fact, because I have to make a choice and I don’t want to do it._

_The rent for your apartment is paid up until April and then… I know I can’t keep your place and mine. You’re not coming back, but I can’t let it go. It’s the last bit of you I have. You’re there. Your scent, your things, your memory. It’s all I have and I…_

_I know what I need to do and yet it kills me. I can’t let you go. I can’t… I can’t think of someone else there, my key no longer able to work in a lock that has been changed._

_I know what I need to do, I do, but I don’t want to do it._

He closed his eyes and his head dropped back as he took a deep breath. He shook his head as he thought of the past. Returning to their office after months of being gone, the entire place covered in plastic, the only place where it felt time had stopped and her memory remained. He had not wanted to move on, not without her. 

He knew that feeling of hopelessness, but not the feeling of loss the way she did. To have seen her dead body, gone to her funeral, and then had to live without her…. even that early in their partnership, he could not imagine it. 

He did not know of his disappearance, did not know anything of anyone’s worry, but seeing her face, he knew it had been bad. Her worry was etched in her face and it hurt him to see it. 

“What happened?” he had asked her in a whisper, his eyes closed, her hand gripping his and her head on his chest.

“Mulder,” she had sighed, holding his hand tighter. “I don’t know if you would even believe me.” He had chuckled softly, feeling exhausted, even as he knew he had to have been sleeping for quite a while.

“It’s me, Scully. Of course I would.” He had barely spoken the words when he had fallen asleep, not waking for a few hours to find her still beside him and holding his hand. 

With a sigh, too many thoughts in his head, he looked back at the journal, smiling as he saw the joy in the words, where before there had been heartache.

_April 2001_

_To think that you are here, alive and breathing, just down the hall, it’s still hard to believe, regardless that it has now been a few weeks._

_This insomniatic child is awake again, despite the late hour. As I could no longer continue pacing, I decided to take this journal out, seeing as I’ve been rather delinquent with my entries as of late._

_My heart is happy, beyond happy. But worry still sits heavy upon me._

_Having you back… I will never be able to fully express what it means. I know you experienced the same when I was gone, but it’s not_ _exactly_ _the same. It just isn’t._

_Being home now, I have more time to think and that’s not always a good thing…_

_I’m so worried about the baby, too many things and people causing concerns, along with my own fears. I don’t want to think about them, instead wanting to focus on the positive in my life. But, Jesus…_

_This baby will be born soon and I’m so scared._

_Truly scared._

_May 2001_

_That was not what I had planned when I imagined having a baby. A ghost town with no doctors or medical personnel around. The people who_ _did_ _gather, Christ, I was terrified._

_But… he’s perfect, Mulder. Perfectly perfect. I am so in love with him. Yes, even his bald head that looks suspiciously like Skinner’s._

_He may be bald, but he is yours. He is ours. A child whose creation is nothing short of a miracle._

_My prayers have been answered. In so many ways._

_My cup does indeed runneth over._

That was it, the last entry in the journal, though there were still pages left, which she would undoubtedly have filled with updates about their new life. Once more however, life took them out at the knees, forcing him to leave, though he ached to stay. 

She had told him to go, in order to keep them all safe, crying as she clung to him, his arms holding her tight. She had been right, he knew it, but Jesus… reading her words, seeing her happiness, he wanted to get off the train, grab them, and run without stopping. 

But, how could they go underground with a baby? One who would need to see doctors and would not be able to be quiet at a moment's notice. They would stick out, drawing unwanted attention to themselves, and be found easily. Him leaving was the best chance of safety for all of them. 

But he hated it. Hated it so very much. 

Turning the pages, he stopped, flipping back and smiling sadly as he found two Polaroid pictures taped to a page. One of them he had taken of Scully smiling at William as she held him and one was of William sleeping, wrapped securely in his blanket. He sighed as he touched them, shaking his head and closing his eyes, once more incredibly tired, his thoughts weighing heavily upon him. 

He opened his eyes and closed the curtain, set his alarm on his watch for six a.m. and turned out the light, needing to sleep for a couple more hours. He hoped William had eaten, was changed and back to sleep by now. Taking a deep breath, he lay down and closed his eyes, the journal beside him, his hand on it as he fell asleep once again.

His watch beeped and he woke up with a groan, feeling like it had been only minutes, not hours. He sat up and stretched, standing to his feet. He took off his clothes and stepped into the small bathroom/shower, closing the door behind him. 

Showered, dressed and packed up, he left the room with his bags and went back to the dining car, the sun just beginning to rise.

He ordered a simple breakfast, tore out a piece of paper from the back of the journal, and asked the waiter for a pen. As he ate, he wrote a letter to Scully.

_Dana..._

_The train is nearly to the stop, time to move on. Words shared, have created an ache I cannot deny._

_Plans that were once agreed upon, should be renegotiated. But, knowledge of the possible repercussions must keep them in motion._

_It pangs me to be far, when I desperately want to be near. I fear this life won’t be for me, and yet I know it must be. For everyone._

_Days will be long and nights, broken by the tolling of an alarm, waking us from our slumber, will join us, though distance will not allow it._

_The sun is rising, painting the sky in beautiful colors of gold. Do you see it? Or do you only see the blue in the eyes looking back at you? That blue could rival any color in the sky… gaze upon it as long as you can._

_The time has come to say goodbye. I feel the end of the line calling me, the motion halting._

_I want to turn around, to go back in time. To find those lost nine minutes and live inside them, our lives safe in a never ending bubble._

_But, those nine minutes will forever be lost, the lives we could have had unknown and floating somewhere out in the ether._

_Perhaps they will collide and somewhere, somehow we will be happy._

_Together._

_We will be one day._

_Our cups forever running over._

_M_

He read it over and nodded with a sigh. This would be their only communication for a while and he felt he had gotten it right. No information of his whereabouts were given and he had used her first name just as she had done, setting a precedent. 

He folded the letter and set it inside her journal. He would need to find a post office before he got on the next train to send it to the post office box the Gunmen had set up. 

He paid for his meal, picked up his bags and walked to the door as the train slowed and pulled into the station. He closed his eyes as he let out a deep breath. 

This was it. No going back.

_______________________

_June 2002_

He glanced at Scully as she slept in the passenger seat and he smiled. They had a plan to keep on the move, never stay for too long in one place.

Today they would be leaving New Mexico and he honestly hoped to never be back again. He had been incredibly lonely there, his search for the truth costing him far more than he ever imagined possible.

Scully moaned in her sleep and he glanced at her again, hoping she would sleep for a bit longer, as they still had a little way to go. He smiled, stepping on the gas to get there faster.

Fifteen minutes later, he slowed down, keeping an eye out for the giant cactus. Well, one of many, though the one he was looking for was different, and he knew it by heart. 

“There you are,” he whispered, pulling the car off the road and putting it in park. Looking at Scully once more, he opened the door, leaving the car running, the air conditioner on in the suffocating heat.

He walked around the car, opening up the back and taking out the small shovel he had bought that morning at the gas station with the convenience store attached. It had held many items he would not have found in a gas station back home, and he was happy for it; the shovel a most welcome tool for what he was about to do. Closing the door gently, he walked toward the large cactus with a smile. 

“Mulder?” He heard Scully call out and he turned around, squinting in the bright sun. “What are you doing?” She closed the door, shaking her head as she walked toward him. 

“What in the hell?” She gestured to the shovel in his hand, brushing her hair back from her eyes.

“There’s something I need,” he answered and she raised her eyebrows.

“Out here?” She spread her arms out, indicating the wide expanse and lack of anything but the two of them. He chuckled and nodded as she shook her head again. “Mulder…” 

“We’re leaving the state, heading north, where hopefully it’s a bit cooler. I think we could both use that.” He wiped his brow, already feeling sweat on his back. “Before we leave, possibly never to be back here again, there’s something I need to get.”

“Again… out here? With a shovel? Where did you even get that?” He laughed again and walked closer to the cactus.

“The last gas station we were at had quite a few convenient items. Ones that you might not associate with a gas station.” He smiled at her as he turned around, the hot wind whipping her hair across her face, her arms crossed. She brushed it away and stared at him with a shrug. 

He nodded and turned to the left, counting out ten steps before turning to the right and counting out ten more. Bending down, he started digging in the dirt, knowing it was not too far down.

He heard Scully behind him and then he saw her out of the corner of his eye, the shovel continuing to dig and move the dirt into a pile. She said nothing, but he could practically hear her thinking and wondering what he could possibly have buried out there.

He smiled as he saw the top of it after a few more shovels of dirt being dug out. A couple more and he was able to set the shovel aside and pull out the backpack he had buried months before, brushing it off as he smiled.

Grabbing the shovel, he stood up and looked at her, chuckling at the look of confusion on her face. He handed her the shovel and she frowned as she took it, her eyes on the backpack.

“I spent a lot of time out here. Well, close to here. When I felt that things were getting too hot, worried with the possibility that I was being followed, I brought this out here one night, burying it for safekeeping. There is a letter addressed to you that sits in a home about fifteen miles from here, giving you coordinates to the spot, if they were to hear of my death. As that’s not going to happen, they will destroy the letter when news of me reaches them.”

“What? I don’t understand what you’re saying. Why do you need the backpack? It looks empty.” She shook her head and he smiled, brushing off the backpack again, as he started to unzip the main compartment.

“Looks can be deceiving,” he said, smiling wider as he reached into the backpack and took out the item he was not going to leave behind. 

Inside of a plastic food storage bag, to keep out any dirt or dust, was the only item inside the faded backpack. Looking up, he handed it to her, taking the shovel in exchange. She gasped as she looked at the journal she had given him when he had left. Her eyes lifted to look at him and he smiled with a nod, as he zipped up the backpack.

“Mulder…” She shook her head and let out a deep sigh.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read that journal. How many times it saved me. I couldn’t lose it. Couldn’t leave here without it.”

“Couldn’t leave it here unknown,” she added, understanding what the as of yet unsent letter would have led her to find. He nodded and she sighed again, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around him.

“That journal was my tether to reality, to memories, to _you_ ,” he whispered, her arms holding tighter. “I couldn’t lose it.”

“Mulder,” she breathed, sniffling against him. He held her as well as he could with the backpack and shovel in his hands.

“Nine years, Scully… this past one completely separated, and yet you continued to save me. Over and over. Your words, no matter if they brought me pain at my own stupidity, they saved me so many times. They could not stay here buried in the ground. One way or another, they needed to find their way back to you.”

He felt her crying and he dropped the things in his hands to hold her closer, the hot wind whipping around them. He ran his hands slowly up and down her back and she cried, sniffling and taking deep breaths.

She pulled back, holding the journal and wiping at her eyes and face, letting out a breath. He smiled, his arms still around her, his eyes searching hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered and he nodded. He kissed her and they separated. He picked up the shovel and the backpack, holding them in one hand, and her hand in the other, squeezing it as they reached the car. 

He put the things back in the car and she got in, the journal on her lap. Getting in beside her he sighed, glad he had left the car running, the inside wonderfully cool. 

“I never gave it a thought of having this again,” she said quietly, touching the journal, still in the storage bag. “When you left, I just wanted you to know, to see the progression of my feelings. To know without a doubt how I felt.” She looked at him, her expression serious. He smiled softly and she sighed. “I love you. So very much.” 

“I know you do. I love you too. I have for a very long time.”

“Me too.”

“I know.” He glanced at the journal and then back at her with a smile. “I read it all. Many times.” He took her hand, kissing her knuckles and rubbing his lips against them. She nodded with a small smile, her eyes not as happy, and he understood why. 

“Everything is in there,” he whispered, thinking of the photos of her and William. She nodded again, tears in her eyes and she rubbed her lips together. “Do you want me to put it in the back?”

“No,” she breathed, shaking her head. “No. But thank you. I’ll… it can stay like this for now.” He kissed her knuckles again and nodded as he let go and she clasped her hands in her lap.

“Thank you,” she said again with a smile that reached her eyes this time. 

“Thank _you_ , Scully. For the words in the journal and for so much more. Thank you.” She bit her lip with a nod and reached for his hand, threading their fingers together, her other hand resting on the journal.

“So… north? Some place that’s cooler?” he asked, squeezing her hand before letting go to put the car in gear and then holding it again.

“God, that sounds wonderful,” she responded and he laughed softly. He backed up and headed back to the road. 

They were quiet as they drove and he was comforted by it. He saw her fingers running gently over the journal, her other softly squeezing his as she looked out the window with a sigh.

He squeezed back, turning on the blinker as they headed north, away from the heat, their future unknown.

But they were together. 

And that was all that mattered.


End file.
